


For the three of us

by RecordRewind



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Cock Bondage, Dominant Aphrodite, Dominant Bottom, Double Anal Penetration, M/M, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Restraints, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4164579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecordRewind/pseuds/RecordRewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aphrodite has some fun together with his two boys. Shura POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the three of us

**Author's Note:**

> (the translation of the few Italian and Spanish words used is at the end)

Oil lanterns fill the room with a soft, almost languid light. The scent of roses is thick in the air, petals are scattered on the floor and over the sheet and pillows on the bed. 

In the middle of the room, Shura waits, on his knees. His eyes are covered by a rigid leather blindfold, and made of leather are also the two straps stretched around his chest, one right over and the other under his pectorals. Both straps are tied to a ring placed behind his back which is connected through a short metal bar to the straps bounding his forearms together. 

A rope is tied around the base of his erect cock, around his sack, in an elaborate knot pushing his balls down and apart. Two small weights are clipped to the rope. The man's, the Saint's, expression betrays nothing. He has been left alone in the room for a while now. He waits.

-

He doesn't hear them enter the room.

“You were right. He looks really nice like this.”

The voice shakes Shura out of his reverie, brings him back to here and now, to the sensations that quickly reassert their rule over his body and mind. The hard floor under his knees, the numbness in his arms. The pressure into his insides. He breathes, slowly, through his nose.

The click of the door closing.

“Doesn't he?” another voice says, with affection. Shura makes himself stay still, resisting the urge to turn his head towards where the voice comes from. He hears heavy steps, the sound of boots being tossed away, a zip. The rustle of clothes. Deathmask is getting undressed. Meanwhile, lighter steps, already barefoot, alert him to the fact Aphrodite is standing behind him.

More steps. Deathmask walks closer, till he stops in front of him. Shura can smell his arousal, and can't but wonder what have they done already, out of the room. He bets Deathmask is leering at him, the bastard.

“You can touch Shura,” Aphrodite says.

Deathmask doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs Shura's chin, makes him tilt his head up. Shura feels the other man's breath against his skin. Deathmask licks his cheek, leaving a wet line from the corner of his lip to the edge of the blindfold. He kisses Shura, with little gentleness. Shura doesn't resist but doesn't give in either. After all, Aphrodite hasn't given him permission to kiss back, or to move at all, so he sees no reason to make things easy for Deathmask and leaves him to force his mouth open.

He's not indifferent to the kiss though. He has to concentrate not to rock his hips forward at least a little. Now Deathmask is holding him by the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair—and then Shura feels another hand on him, stroking his back, as gentle as Deathmask's hands are rough. The hand moves to brush over his sides, traces the lines of his ribs, then caresses his pectorals, a finger running along the straps. 

Something stings the skin there. A single thorn, Shura realizes. Aphrodite drags it over his chest, drawing circles and lines, careful to leave but a reddened trace, not enough to break the skin.

Deathmask pulls back from the kiss. Shura hears him mutter something in his mother tongue.

“ _Cazzo_...! You look ready to eat, _troietta_.”

“Language,” Aphrodite warns him. “I don't want to put a gag on you. Not yet,” he adds, as if in afterthought.

“Sorry. _Le mie più sentite scuse_ ,” Deathmask replies, in a mocking tone. Aphrodite huffs in disapproval, and Shura can picture him rolling his eyes briefly. It is, most weirdly, almost harder not to grin at that than to prevent himself from trying and getting some friction against Deathmask's body, so close to him.

“Down, boy. Now be nice to Shura. Make up for what you said.”

Deathmask chuckles, then he leans closer to bite Shura's jaw. He trails a line, licking and nipping, from the bound man's neck to the patch of dark hair over his crotch. He then starts licking his cock, from where the rope is taut on the skin to the tip, and now it is Shura who has to swallow back a curse. Quickly, all too quickly, the pressure he already feels escalates to a painful kind of pleasure. Almost too much and yet it is not enough, absolutely not enough... He focuses on the other pain he's still feeling, the thin lines left by the thorn. He makes his mind cling to them like to a lifeline.

He hears Aphrodite hum, approvingly. The man presses a soft kiss to his cheeks. “Good. Now bear just a little more patience, sweet.”

Shura senses Aphrodite stand up, and then Deathmask mouth leaves his cock. From the way he seems to resist, the way he still reaches with the tip of his tongue to taste him a little more, Shura thinks Aphrodite might have put the leash on Deathmask before they started, and he's now pulling him away with it. That's a nice image, and the simple thought makes his arousal spike, makes him even harder, if possible.

He licks his lips and listens to them moving around, to the wet sound of kisses, the swish of soft fabric. Aphrodite is putting the blindfold on Deathmask as well, and something else. He then hears the bed creak lightly, the clasp of metal latches. Deathmask's muffled laughter. Oh, he is hungry. They both are.

“Here, here. Now try and relax, you'll have to wait too, my dear. Just like the good boys you are. Let me get ready.”

Shura feels his throat get dry, desire thick on his tongue. Aphrodite never lets them watch. They can fuck each other, and be brought to climax by him, without any blindfold, but he never lets them see his face when he's feeling the most pleasure, when he loses control. It makes Shura ache.

Aphrodite moans, and Shura imagines the beautiful man, reclined on the bed, right in front of him he knows. His fingers coated in the oil, pushing gently at first, then more eagerly, easily in and out... then he moves his hand up to stroke himself, fingers brushing the thin light blue hair...

“Yes... Mmh... Don't worry, it won't take long. I've prepared myself a little before we started... I wanted to be ready... To try something...”

Shura hears Deathmask groan. Aphrodite must be touching him as well. The need to be close to them, close enough to touch, to taste, is overwhelming. He would never bring his Goddess' name inside that room, so filled with unholy desires, but oh, if he wishes he could pray to Athena to be on that bed too.

Finally, after a wait that has felt like eternity, Aphrodite speaks to him again.

“Come to me, sweet.”

Shura breathes in relief. He stands up, remembering at the last moment to move slowly. He walks the five steps he knows that separate him from the bed. He waits, standing with his back straight. Aphrodite places a hand on his chest, then he reaches up to stroke the side of his neck. He makes Shura lean down, and kisses him on the lips. 

“Would you like to touch me? Answer me.”

“...Yes,” Shura's voice almost gets caught into his dry throat. Aphrodite laughs softly. He runs a finger over Shura's strained erection, caresses his balls. He unclasp the weights, giving him a small measure of relief. “Turn around.”

Shura obeys, and Aphrodite slowly unties his arms, taking the time to massage the numbness out of them. At this point Shura is sure enough Deathmask has been gagged beside blindfolded, too much time has passed without a crass comment.

Aphrodite takes Shura's hand, makes him walk to the side of the bed and kneel on it. “Careful...” he says, placing his hand down on the other body laying there. Shura touches Deathmask's legs. He runs his hand from the other's waist down to the foot, and he finds Deathmask now has leather bands around his ankles, connected together by a short chain. Two leather straps go from each ankle to the posts at the corners of the bed. Deathmask's arms must be tied as well, he is laying there, face up, completely restrained. Shura strokes his thigh, then he lets his nails scratch the skin. He can't suppress a grin at the half-groan, half-moan that elicits. Deathmask loves being bound like that, as much as it makes him frustrated as well. He is growing as desperate as Shura is. Something Aphrodite very much enjoys... to have them both desperate. And to have them love every second of that. Shura runs his nails on the inside of Deathmask's thigh again, feels him shudder.

“You'll have him, Shura. Later.” Aphrodite says, sounding amused. “Now I would you to please me.”

Shura nods, swallowing. “Yes.” He turns his head to him, reaches blindly to place his hands on Aphrodite's sides

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

Aphrodite kisses him, draws Shura's tongue into his mouth, sucks on it. Then he pulls away. Shura feels him lean down. To kiss Deathmask over his gag.

“I will have you inside me first.” Aphrodite tells Deathmask. He moves closer to Shura again, speaks against his lips. “Then I want you to fill me as well. I will have both of you inside me.”

It takes a moment for Shura to process what Aphrodite is saying. He thinks _fuck_ , just as he hears Deathmask maim the word aloud around the gag.

Aphrodite giggles. “Babies... You should see your faces, you look so cute. I'm glad you seem to like the idea.”

Like? Shura is pretty sure his brain is going to melt into an undignified puddle of desire. Even so, he almost asks _are you sure_? aloud, but he catches himself in time. He still reaches up to brush Aphrodite's cheek, very lightly, asking for reassurance.

Aphrodite takes his hand and entwines their fingers together. He presses his lips, curled into a smile, over them.

“Don't worry. I will tell you what to do. Now stay still.”

And Shura can't do anything but obey. 

Aphrodite pours lube over his sex, spreads it on the skin with a light touch, not lingering too much. Then Shura feels the mattress shift. By instinct, he touches Deathmask's leg again, keeps his hand there.

“Forgive if I give you my back,” Aphrodite says, and Shura hears both his and Deathmask's breath become heavier, as Aphrodite lowers himself on the other man's sex. Aphrodite starts moving, riding Deathmask's cock, he must be taking it all...

“Shura,” he calls after a while, his voice steady.

Shura reaches out, moving gingerly, his hand finds Aphrodite's back. He moves closer, placing his knees on each side of Deathmask's legs. Aphrodite is kneeling as well, sitting on Deathmask with his back to Shura, who leans in to kiss his shoulder. Aphrodite pulls his hair to the side, to expose his neck, and Shura covers it in kisses, licks a line up to his jaw. He traces an ear with the tip of his tongue. Worships Aphrodite's skin with all he has.

“Now I want you to put your fingers inside me.”

Aphrodite leans forth. Shura moves one hand down, finds Deathmask's hard sex, half-buried inside Aphrodite's body. He feels it, feels them both, barely rocking, half an inch in, half an inch out. He rubs the skin until his fingers are lubed as well.

“Put them in. Work me loose... I need to be ready for you, too.”

Shura obliges, slowly stretching Aphrodite's muscles until he can accommodate his two fingers as well. Following Aphrodite's instructions, he rotates his hand, ever so gently, so that he alternates between stroking Aphrodite's hot skin and Deathmask's. He knows they're both shivering, by now.

“Good. You're doing so well...” Aphrodite praises him. “Enough. Now come to me.”

Shura shifts closer, widening his knees so he is at the right height. He grabs his sex, presses the tip against Deathmask's balls, then drags it up along the little of his length still exposed.

“Do you want it?” Aphrodite asks, his breath just the tiniest bit heavier. Laboured.

“Yes, _por favor_...”

Shura feels Aphrodite's hand on his feverish skin. Aphrodite is reaching back. He caresses him, latching his fingers on the rope still bounding him, dragging them over his sex. Shura feels on the brink of losing it.

“...Please!” Shura says again, his voice cracking.

“Then take it.”

Shura pushes in, his fingers giving way to his sex. He hears Aphrodite hold his breath, and then let it go as Shura fits inside him. “Careful, don't let Deathmask's slide out,” Aphrodite warns him. “I don't want to hear him complain about it till tomorrow,” he adds, and Shura pictures him looking fondly at the other man who is laying helpless under them. He nods, then he places one hand on Aphrodite's stomach, the other searches for Deathmask's body under them. 

Shura feels his head light. He's the one of them with the most freedom of movement, and yet... 

The way Aphrodite is still reaching back with his hand, touching him, guiding him, setting the pace. 

The way Aphrodite clenches over him as Shura pushes deeper, till the rope wrapped around his cock touches both Aphrodite's and Deathmask's skin. 

The way his strained sex is pressed against Deathmask's. 

All this makes him feel completely possessed by the man he is penetrating. Deathmask must be feeling it even more, restrained as he is and with the weight of the other two on him he can't even buck his hips, the only relief can come from the way Shura moves against him.

“Come on,” Aphrodite says, letting go of Shura so he can touch himself freely. “Make it good. For the three of us.”

And as a soldier who has just received an order on the battlefield, Shura sets himself onto the mission. His pace is careful yet relentless, he angles himself so that Deathmask's cock, pushed by his own, will in turn stimulate Aphrodite where it feels the best. He wraps an arm around Aphrodite's chest, knows by his movement that he is now rubbing himself with the same deliberate pacing of Shura's thrusts. The way he's taking them both... yes, he has been preparing himself for them, must have been. Anticipating this, for the Goddess only knew how long. Desiring them...

Sooner than later, Aphrodite starts taking air in shorter breaths, that almost become moans, the movement of his arm quickening. Shura immediately changes his own rhythm to match the other's, and hears Aphrodite laugh, breathlessly.

“Good... you're so good...” His voice is dripping with pleasure, and Shura feels proud. And yet...

“Let me see you, please.”

The words escape Shura's lips before he can stop them, and after spoken he doesn't want to take them back. Even if it might mean later punishment.

“Please... Please, I need to see you... Let me...” he begs, without shame.

Aphrodite falls silent for a moment. Then Shura feels his hand on the side of his head, stroking his hair, now drenched in sweat. His fingers latch onto the blindfold clasps. He undoes them, and the blindfold falls down.

Shura opens his eyes, he needs only a few seconds to get adjusted to the dim light of the room, and then he can see. Aphrodite is looking back at him, over his shoulder. He's smiling, panting a little, his cheeks are tinted with pink, his lips red like roses. A few stranded locks of hair cling to his forehead. 

He looks blissful in his pleasure.

Shura almost gasps, and then he does, loudly, as Aphrodite reaches back again to pull the string that undoes the knot around him, at once, and the relief is so huge it is painful.

Shura bucks his hips wildly, all restraint forgotten, burying himself into Aphrodite to the hilt, once, twice, and the he comes. Next thing he knows, Aphrodite's back is pressing against his chest and the man abandons himself over him, moaning, as he comes as well.

Shura embraces him, kisses his smile as soon as Aphrodite turns his head to search for his lips. They share a long, lazy kiss, as Shura has to slip out of him. Aphrodite pulls back a little and looks at the other man, faking a frown that somehow on him looks flattering.

“I hope you're satisfied now. I don't even want to know how I looked.”

“You were beautiful. You always are,” Shura says, earnest. 

“Mmh. Anyway, don't get used to that, boy.” Aphrodite gives him another small kiss. “But you behaved so well... you deserved a treat.”

“Thank you.”

A movement under them, followed by a frustrated groan, reminds them of Deathmask's presence, Shura glances down, and grins. As he thought, Deathmask has his arms spread, wrists cuffed and bound to the bed posts. His eyes are covered by a blindfold softer than the one Shura was wearing, but secured just as tightly, and yes, he is wearing a gag, and he is busy groaning swearwords around it. He is panting, nostrils flaring, his face turned to the side, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. As a final touch, his chest is decorated with Aphrodite's semen.

“Hush, dear, give us a moment,” Aphrodite says in a light tone, as he raises his hips and releases Deathmask's cock with a wet sound, making him gasp, unsatisfied. Aphrodite gives Shura a mischievous glance.

“Shall we give him what he needs? Do you feel up to it?”

Shura glances down at his sex. As intense as his orgasm felt, he has been worked up so hard he is now only half-softened. And just by looking at Deathmask like this, he feels blood going back down there.

“If you wish so,” he replies, keeping himself from smirking.

“Very well...” Aphrodite lies down on his side, propping himself up on an elbow and leaning with his cheek against his hand.

“Then go on, do as you wish. I'll watch the show.” He reaches to stroke Deathmask's hair, then he unties the blindfold and uses it to wipe himself. Deathmask's blinks, searches for Aphrodite's eyes, then for Shura's, again making harsh, muffled sounds. The message is pretty clear. Somebody better fuck him, one way or another, or else...

“Baby, we really need to work on your manners...” Aphrodite sighs, and for a moment Shura can see the desperation in Deathmask's eyes, the fear this might mean waiting further. Then, mercifully, Aphrodite gives Shura a small nod.

Shura leans down, wraps his hand around the bound man's throat and keeps it there for a few long seconds, then he tightens his grip just a fraction and smiles, as he feels Deathmask holding his breath, sees his cock twitch eagerly in anticipation. He lowers himself till he is almost touching Deathmask's face. Licks the gag.

Shura pulls back and away abruptly, unclasp the cuffs around Deathmask's ankles, places his hands under the knees and pushes the legs up and apart, positioning himself. His grin is mirrored by the one in Deathmask's eyes. Both men turn to look at Aphrodite, just before Shura pushes in.

**Author's Note:**

> I dared myself to write porn of two randomly picked Saints. Shura and Aphrodite were the ones, and then I had to throw DM in as well XD  
> I hope this wasn't too bad!
> 
>  _Cazzo!_ : Fuck! (literally "cock")  
>  _Troietta_ : Little slut  
>  _Le mie più sentite scuse_ : I offer my deepest apologies
> 
>  _Por favor_ : please


End file.
